We paint ourselves the protagonist,
The tragic hero in this world of a stage,
Every event becomes a drama to be played,
Every word becomes a script.
How big the molehills seem
When we're within a fence.
We paint ourselves as the main hero
With perhaps just a few minor flaws
Something that can just be whined away
Something that can be changed.
How can we climb the mount
When we trip over molehills?
Like a butterfly's hanging cocoon
We build a wall to be 'round ourselves
Rather than caring for those we ought
We are a sheltered breed.
Destory that strong fence there
Tear it, that we may care.
Author notes
Please, leave a critique or something.
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